translation
by stormur
Summary: Warren and Layla at the bookstore. A naughty vignette.


_Warren turned the folded paper over and over in his hand, staring until the colour faded. The movement roused its scent to permeate, seeping into the tips of his fingers. He felt a tinge of undivided pleasure, tumultuous at best. He narrowed his eyes to her. She was a few feet away at another table, writing furiously into a notebook as lips echoed what she wrote, glancing here and there at the student beside her. When she would look up at him, she would absently touch the collar of her coat, lost in him until her student said something or other to bring her back to earth. Tumultuous... and a bit guilty. She probably didn't expect him at the bookstore an hour earlier than she proposed. If she accused him of being a distraction, he would tell her she left without waking him. Warren slipped the folded paper into the pocket of his coat and continued sketching until he lost sight of her._

* * *

Warren's lips grazed the spine of his sketch book, diverting from the numbness in his gums and turned the corner. As he walked slowly down the aisle of gardening books, his heart leapt to his throat once he discovered her standing there all alone, passing a listless hand over titles yet she seemed rather distracted. When she noticed, she did a double take and a smile spread her lips.

"I found your note." he said, lightly tapping his chest with his book, not failing to notice how quickly her body, her face reacted to him. Layla sighed as she leaned against the bookcase, waiting for him to come closer.

"I was beginning to think it had been lost in translation." she reached out for his arm.

"Is he gone? Are you done tutoring?" he kissed her cheek. She nodded and touched her cheek, wanting another, giggling when he gave her an affluence of kisses all over her face. He inhaled her sharply. "You know what this means, right?" he tapped her lips with the edge of his book before placing it upon the shelf behind her.

She tilted her head, her fingers wistfully touching the material of his shirt. He nudged his face against hers before kissing her throat.

"You look nice."

He wrinkled his nose at her compliment and pulled back slightly, bending at the knees as he looked into her eyes. "Have you decided?"

"No..." she whispered, cupping his face with both hands. She stood on her toes, kissing him. He gripped the top shelf above her head as he pushed into her, fervently kissing her back. He brought one hand to her face, holding her in place as he decimated any idea of discipline. Usually having to suffer a level of constraint that stole more than his energy. She was breathing hard and his hand slipped down, gently wrapping around her neck. "I will make up your mind for you." he suggested, his fingers grazing her rabid pulse. He licked the outer shell of her ear, sucking on her earlobe, trailing kisses down her jaw.

Her fingers dug into the nape of his neck, mouthing his name. She reached down between them and he flinched. His eyes followed her hand as it disappeared under her skirt. She let her eyes seek the aisle, to make sure they were alone at that very moment and discreetly removed the handkerchief. His eyes shot up to her face. She smiled in all of her innocence, letting him have it. She slipped away from him, fingers flitting across the books as she moved along. He brought the scented cloth to his lips, staining them with her wetness. The heat emanating from his body was clearly visible, its aura trailing after her and he nictitated rapidly to dispel the cloudiness within his eyes, stepping back. He sucked his lips as he shoved the handkerchief into the pocket of his coat and weakly retrieved his book, watching her round the corner. He desperately followed her.

"I might burn this place down if we are not careful." he murmured into her ear and she stopped abruptly, not minding when he bumped into her. She turned quickly and grabbed him by the coat, kissing him again. "At least we'll be together." she breathed against his mouth. He nipped at her bottom lip. "Bad girl." and she started to walk backwards, pulling him into her kiss as she did so. And he stopped at once when he noticed they were not alone. He cleared his throat as she giggled, grabbing his hand, leading him away. Into another aisle, into another endless kiss. The lights started to flicker. "We should go. It will rain soon."

She shook her head, kissing him beneath his chin and undid the ribbon in his hair. "I have not decided on a book." she looped the black ribbon through the first button hole of her coat and ran her fingers through his hair, twirling the red streak round a finger.

"You can read one of mine." he held the book between them and she tipped her toes, kissing him chaste. And almost ripped her coat open until she took his hand, leading him into another aisle until he let go, faltering against a bookcase. "Layla-" he squinted before closing his eyes tight, wincing. She playfully leaned her body against his- "Yes, Warren?" and reached up to the shelf by his head, nudging out a book. He hissed as she lowered her body deliberately against his erection, a finger trailing a title before she pulled away, deciding against it. She left him high and dry and he swiftly came up behind her, slipping his hand under her skirt. He could feel how warm, how wet she was and snapped the strap of her garter. "You are driving me crazy." he growled into her ear.

"Hmmm, my thoughts exactly."

He swallowed hard, letting her slip away yet again. How does she keep getting away from him? He tightened his coat around him and folded his arms, almost losing interest in his book. He wanted his hands preoccupied with her body, her scent, her sounds. The itchiness of his heat was prickling his skin. Distractedly he moved, his eyes following the grey seam of her black stockings. The sight of her was enough to plan the demise of their favourite bookstore to ash but the idea of paying the consequence to such an action would leave him without her. An idea worse than anything else he could imagine. Just as bad as burning books. He grumbled her name and she giggled. "Layla, I can't think straight."

She came back to him, caressing his face. He still kept one arm across his chest, like a shield, holding his book like a lifeline. She stood before him, staring at him. As if time stopped, his eyes regarded every inch of her. The redness of her hair, the delicate shape of her full mouth, the slimness of her pale throat, her coat now undone, the white shirt too tight that the buttons seemed strained. She removed her gloss from the pocket of her coat and absently uncapped it, staring at him all the while. He could feel the titles of countless books, the dim of their setting, the music fading as it all became one fuzzy blur yet she remained intact, full of life, full of colour. He watched her slowly apply it. Compelled to kiss her after she finished. He licked his lips, not wanting her to get away. Her strawberry scent stronger now that she had done so. "How did we get here?" he asked.

"The only way out." she smiled sweet, slipping the gloss back into her pocket. She took his hand again, leading him toward the map section at the back of the shop. He realised the world must have rearranged their surroundings when they were not looking for he was always convinced that section was in the forefront. His confusion didn't settle for long as she kissed the hand she held and he looked at her with a heart that would give out on him if he didn't have her.

"We shouldn't keep up appearances any more." she whispered. He nodded, feeling all sense completely gone. He was dumbfounded at her beauty, at the way she formed her words, the sound of her breath. He languidly reached out a shaky hand to her face and she grimaced at the heat of his fingers yet she never told him to stop.

She would get used to it. She always did.

She pulled him close by his belt. Layla was more attuned to his surroundings than he was and he read her face as her eyes scattered to either side to them, making sure. Warren didn't want to blink, nor move because losing sight of her... he figured it would take less than half a wink before everyone knew what hit them. She took his book and placed it on the shelf behind her. "Don't forget." she confided, her finger touching off each button of his shirt. As if he were under her spell, as if he had strings she was pulling, she led his hand beneath her skirt. She looked up at him expectantly. Despite keeping her gaze, confident that she would be their eyes and ears, the idea of being caught still managed to sneak into his psyche and he leaned his forehead against hers, a unwanted fear unsettling him. She was shaking, like he was. Her eyes were watery, like his. He kneaded her inner thighs, watching her closely, his hand gripping the frame of the bookcase. He leaned his forehead against his arm, his lips by her ear. "I could hurt you." She ran her fingers up his chest and took the shirt collar with her thumb and forefinger, tugging, as if she wanted to rip it off of him. She left kisses at the hollow of his throat. When he heard the faint splintering of the frame, he let go and brought his hand to his mouth, biting the side of his finger. She leaned forward, removing the finger with her teeth, catching on. Always on the same page and he smirked, fingering her lightly through her panties, ever so lightly, to and fro. He stopped when she slightly bowed and placed his hand on her abdomen, kissing her by the mouth, her cheek, her temple.

There was hurt in her eyes as she bit, resented at the idea of harming him yet he nodded against it, against her need to disobey him. She licked his finger before placing it between her teeth again. And he closed his eyes, pushing aside the wet panties, slipping his finger into her and sharply exhaled with such agonizing respite. She bit hard and he thrust another finger, his breath uneven, in sync with hers. Her hands wrapped around the wrist of the hand she kept in her mouth, mewling so faintly, deep within her chest. He leaned in obsessively close, shushing her, thrusting his fingers in and out of her, the wetness of her leaving him lightheaded until he fell to his knees before her, kissing and sucking through the material of her skirt before lifting it, burying his face there in her sex. She was biting incessantly. Between that, the idea of getting caught and being at her whim had him at a definite loss yet it was the end of the world for all he cared and he laved, raking his teeth gently against the flimsy material of her panties until he felt his breath stop, his heart in his ears as she tongued his palm, outlining his lines with such carnal delectation. His parted lips quivered against her thigh and he rubbed his cheek against the strap of her garter, at the loose ribbon at the clasp, the roughness of the flowery detailed edge of her stocking scraping against the flutter of his eyelashes. He held part of the storm in his hand, her body undulating beneath his heat, his touch, slivers of fire escaping him like apparitions, feathering light over her, into her skin.

She mimicked her twin, which beat against the windows now, restless and unruly and when he raised his eyes to her, he realised she was making it happen. The small smile she had, as if she were reading his mind, reaffirmed his conclusion. She giggled, her kiss-swollen lips sucking the tip of his finger. He held her thigh, his nails digging into the soft flesh and came back up to her level, roughly parting her legs as he came close. He mouthed kisses against her cheek, fingering her lightly before thrusting in again, edging nearer to her, letting her steal his breath. Layla slipped his finger back into her mouth and desperately covered his hand, pushing him deeper and deeper still. Her head lolled against the books, back arching. He bit his lip, burying his fingers deep, almost lifting her off the floor. She elbowed some of the books which in turn caused a few to crash to the floor in the opposite aisle, grasping at him. The tear fell when she was close, viciously biting when she came and he took hold of the shelf to hold himself up as she fell against him, spent.

He rubbed at the indentations on his finger as he drew an arm around her twitching body. He held her, stroked her head. "Baby, are you ok?" Her arms circled him, burying her face into his chest. She nodded. As she eventually withdrew, she grabbed his hand. She gently held it, caressing the finger she had used as bait. She made a small sound of discontent when she delicately touched the profound indentations. "I broke your skin." she heaved a sigh, her eyes wide. Despite the dim, he could plainly see she was on the verge of saying something else, an apology he surmised and swiftly covered her mouth, shaking his head. "I should apologise to you. I asked you to." She let go of his hand and edged closer, not caring when he winced and he held her roughly against him, possessively so. He took hold of the frame again, studying her. Her breath still harsh, feverish as usual yet she was still up for mischief, regarding him with an impish smile, her heavy-lidded eyes as if in dream, running her fingers through his long hair.

"I decided-."

He couldn't move so he waited patiently for her to continue but she lost herself in her movements, cherishing him with her eyes, her hands. "The way you look at me." he said quietly.

"It should always feel that way."

He raised his eyebrows.

"Like the first time." she disclosed with another countless kiss, fisting his hair. "And what have you decided?" he lazily asked against her lips, breathing her in as he closed his eyes. He could feel her smile. "You know that book you keep by the bed?" He nodded. "Neruda." he gravelly professed. She kissed him. "You will define me." he returned the kiss before he opened his eyes. He furrowed his brow, looking onto her with confusion.

"Translating your passion onto me."

He slightly pulled back to look at her squarely in the face. "How is that any different than-"

"His words, your desire-" she wiggled slight and he grabbed her arms, breath hitching. "Versed upon my skin by your ink. And then you read me. In turn, I translate their definitions onto you."

As he stared at her, he started burning up and she recoiled. After clenching his hand to dissipate the smoke seeping from the sleeve of his coat, he let her go, the smoke alarm going off behind him. "What luck." she giggled. He looked over his shoulder, hearing footfalls. "I think that's our cue to go." he grabbed his book off the shelf and took her hand swiftly, leading her outside. Into the rain, into a lush evergreen by her doing and one last kiss before she started to run. Of course, he thought and heard her laugh before he started to give chase.

* * *

The ink verses seemed carved into her naked flesh by the light of the candle, carved into her fragility, her beauty making him weak and smudged the words on her back, smudging hard, into wings.

 _you've vines and stars in your hair._

He helped her turn. Her vines curled his forearms, pulling him slightly closer. He reached out to the Nigella damascenas in her hair as they opened.

 _Naked you are spacious and yellow as summer in a golden church._

She knelt down before him, the radiance of his heat warming her and he shivered as she raised her eyes.

* * *

 _The italic verses at the end of the story belong to Pablo Neruda. Poem: Morning_


End file.
